


For Better, Forever

by magisterpavus



Series: keith the kinky witch & his big bad incubus [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, But also, Domestic Bliss, Epilogue, Guilt, Honeymoon, M/M, Magic-Users, Marriage, Wedding Night, in which loose ends are tied up and once again i cant stop writing about these 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 07:04:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16471016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magisterpavus/pseuds/magisterpavus
Summary: Five years after the events ofSeal It With A Kiss, Shiro & Keith say their vows at the altar.Unfortunately, marriage can present certain complications when your husband is a repressed incubus.





	For Better, Forever

**Author's Note:**

> i came up with the title before knowing this, but apparently 'for better, forever' is a catholic book about marriage. we adore irony in this house :)
> 
> anyway! here's a lil halloween SIWAK epilogue, in which loose ends are tied up, unasked questions are explored, and honestly i just missed these two i hope you guys enjoy bc WOW they love each other a lot.

The night they wed in Stratonikeia is a night to remember.

Everything is as Shiro saw it so many years ago — except for Keith, who is, according to Shiro, more beautiful than Shiro could have ever imagined as he walks down the aisle holding Krolia’s arm. Shiro’s grandparents sit in the front row, delightfully unfazed by the strangeness of the realm around them. There are no orgies this time (though there are grapes in abundance), but the audience is a motley assortment of human and Voidborn. 

There are even a few old gods in attendance — apparently, the first Kurobasanir was a bit of a dick (in every sense of the word), but his old god friends are more than happy to accept the invitations Shiro cautiously delivered to them after Keith pointed out that it’s always a good idea to have at least a couple of old gods in one’s corner. An ancient leshen who wove wildflowers into his antlers for the occasion tells Keith in confidence that he’s glad the incubus finally learned some manners. 

Keith doesn’t have the heart to tell him that while  _ Shiro _ is kind and polite to a fault,  _ Kurobasanir  _ is an  _ entirely _ different story — and in all honesty, Keith isn’t exactly mad about it. Quite the opposite, really. Though Kurobasanir hasn’t shown his face in quite some time, come to think of it...

In any case, it’s jarring to see the old gods sitting amidst the humans as if this is the way things have always been. They even managed to track down an old friend of the Shirogane family – a great white whale with the clouded blue eyes of an old man, who deigned to attend in human form, and sits beside Shiro’s grandparents in a long cloak of silver which ebbs and flows around his ancient but proud form like the rippling water of Lake Lucanus. 

Keith’s father sits on the other side of Shiro’s grandparents, dressed in the lavish dark garb he has grown accustomed to in Stratonikeia. He may be fully human, but he fits in here, using his magic to make things grow and bloom in Hecate’s grim realm, finally finding the life and the family he had longed for in the world of dust and heat he was born in. He watches Keith and Krolia with aching fondness, both of them clad in black and violet, tight in places and flowing loose and free in others. Keith often forgets he is a prince of this realm, a son of Lady Hecate, but now it is impossible to mistake him as anything but royalty. 

Krolia selected every piece of Keith’s jewelry with a discerning eye, wrapping his slender black horns in fine golden chains dripping with rubies, adorning his pointed ears with two small golden hoops each. His face is painted not in the gaudy metallic shades of a pet, but with soft, warmly glowing red powder which accents the small red scales dusted across his cheekbones. His glowing golden eyes are lined in fine, rich black kohl. 

Keith’s mother and father both painted the twisting symbols of union, loyalty, trust, respect, luck, fate, freedom, happiness, health, power, and eternity which cover his forearms. They are all crowned by the rune for love, which rests in the hollow of Keith’s collarbones, a few inches above his pounding heart. 

Shiro’s body mirrors his own, every symbol painted by his grandparents, who are beginning to cry silently as Krolia releases Keith. 

She looks at him, and in her steady yellow gaze he sees all the words which remain unspoken:  _ I’m proud of you. I love you. It is so good to see you happy; happy with him. _

He smiles at her, inclines his head, and steps onto the raised dais, approaching Shiro in slow, measured steps. Mai Shirogane dabs at her eyes with the blue and gold handkerchief covered in little koi fish Shiro gave her last year from Zagros, a realm known for its beautiful weaving. 

The one downside is that Zagros is filled with giant Voidborn spiders who are very fond of eating humans’ heads off, but Mai is unfazed, and uses the spider-silk handkerchief every chance she gets. Beside Mai, her husband Jun sits with a small, proud smile, and holds his wife’s wrinkled brown hand very tightly. They were once so certain they would never see their grandson again, and here he is, marrying the love of his life. Keith can only imagine how they must feel, seeing him now.

They may have traveled the realms together for five years since Keith proposed to Shiro on that first Samhain night, but Keith still hardly believes this is truly happening; that Shiro said yes, that Shiro loves him, that Shiro wants to spend their eternity together, that Shiro is standing before him now, alive and beautiful and smiling so wide Keith fears his cheeks may burst.

Just above the love rune, Keith wears on the woven leather cord the iron rose Shiro’s grandmother made for him at Shiro’s behest years ago. Shiro’s eyes fall upon it now, and then back to Keith’s face, shining with the same blissful disbelief Keith is nearly overwhelmed with. Keith’s eyes drift to the rose pendant at Shiro’s throat, not silver but gold, with a gleaming fire opal inlaid in its center. 

With Hecate’s help, Keith found it for Shiro in Redwall on what he had once thought might be his last birthday. Looking at it now, he remembers the strange bliss of sitting upon the Belvedere Inn rooftop, watching the fireworks explode over the bay, Shiro at his side – and then, leaping into the sky, wings catching the wind, trailing sparks, diving and swooping like birds of prey, together.

Keith wishes he could recall the ceremony in better detail, but he is too distracted by Shiro, so he remembers it only in vivid fragments – Shiro’s eyes warm and steady on him, Shiro’s voice as he repeats the vows they wrote together, Shiro grasping his hand firm but gentle to draw the cold blade across his palm as Keith mirrors the cut on Shiro’s palm, Shiro’s blood dripping with his own between their joined hands as magic, the deepest, oldest magic there is, thickens in the air between them with palpable power. 

He remembers kissing Shiro when the rites are said and done, lips sparking on contact, his body shivering with electricity that makes Shiro laugh, eyes crinkling up at the corners, savoring the lightning they share.

They feast and dance for hours after. 

Shiro dances with him first, of course, and though they keep their distance and decorum, Keith has felt his hunger too often to mistake it for anything else. Shiro holds him close, claws pressing into the small of Keith’s back like a promise, and twirls him around the hall until they’re both laughing and breathless and the music is in full swing, and they lose each other sometime between the third dance and the fifth.

Keith finds Pidge first, dressed in the traditional earthy green garb of the Dalterion Swamps with her wavy hair down to her shoulders. She’s grown, but her pale skin is as stubbornly freckled as he remembers, and her magic curls clean and bright in the air like the fresh fronds of a spring fern. They manage to keep serious expressions for a total of thirty seconds before they both break down giggling, and Pidge’s eyes are shiny behind her glasses, and she says, “I still can’t  _ believe _ all this, Keith,” and Keith says, “Was it the tail or the horns that tripped you up?” and she grins, and smacks his arm, and shakes her head.

“All of it,” she says. “You. Shiro. This place. Voidborn and humans,  _ dancing together _ . It’s incredible. It’s impossible.”

“A little bit,” Keith says, smiling. “Yeah. I know what you mean.”

“It’s been so long,” Pidge sighs, as the music settles into the golden strains of a dozen harps. “So long since we’ve all been together.”

Guilt settles in his chest. “Yes,” Keith sighs, “I know, we meant to return more, but, well…”

“Hey,” Pidge says. “It’s okay. We get it. The Citadel isn’t safe for you two. But maybe it will be, someday.”

Keith shakes his head. “No,” he murmurs, “I know their kind. They’re just as bad as the Wastesfolk. Afraid of what they don’t understand, so afraid they’d kill us long before listening to what we have to say.”

“Well,” Pidge says, “you never know...you did send that missive to Princess Allura about Haggar. And she  _ did  _ respond.”

“With a threat,” Keith says dryly, spinning Pidge around in a neat circle. “Charming of her.”

“She also thanked you,” Pidge reminds him. “And she said she understands why you made the contract, even if it was wrong to do so.”

“Hm,” Keith says. “She does have a point. It was wrong. Wasn’t it?”

Pidge gives him a look. “Little late to be regretting that particular choice, isn’t it?”

“I don’t regret it,” Keith says. “But the tales about Voidborn aren’t idle ones, Katie. You know as well as I that they’re dangerous. Deadly. And if he had been the real Kurobasanir…”

“But he wasn’t,” Pidge says, softer. “He wasn’t.”

“We’re not  _ good, _ Katie,” Keith tells her, head tilted and tone sober. “Your father and brother know that, and so do I. Voidborn are capable of great evil.”

“Aren’t we all, though?” Pidge counters. “Voidborn or not, witch or not. We all have the capacity for evil...and good. It’s not like you’re stuck with one or the other. You choose. Or life chooses for you.”

“Since when did you get so wise?” Keith chuckles.

“Around the same time you got so tall and scaly,” Pidge retorts, and Keith stops dancing with her to shock her fingertips lightly and send her squawking away in indignance.

“Tall and scaly,” Keith repeats, and huffs at her. She flicks out a vine like a whip, smacking him squarely on the nose — or it would have, if he hadn’t caught it with inhuman speed.

“You’re no fun,” Pidge complains.

The dance ends, and Lance walks up to them with a grin from a few couples over. “That’s my line.”

Keith smiles back with sharp teeth. “Enjoying the party?”

Lance snorts. “Sure. I can see everyone’s true forms, though. It’s fucking weird. That old guy over there is a whale, did you know that?”

“I did write the guest list,” Keith chuckles, “so, yes. I’m aware. Did you introduce yourself?”

“Uh, no,” Lance says in disbelief, “I’m not looking to buddy up with an old god.” His gaze lingers on something over Keith’s shoulder. “That succubus, though…”

“Oh, great,” Hunk says, sidling up to them with some impressive dance moves, “is Lance gonna make a contract, meet the love of his life, and find his secret Voidborn mom, now?”

Lance scowls. “My mom is very human and the love of my life is waiting for me in an Altean castle, thanks very much. Also, no contracts. I like my soul where it is.”

“You mean, uneaten?” Keith drawls.

Lance rolls his eyes. “Oh, okay, Mr. Cambion here thinks he’s hot shit after he married a greater incubus, whoop-de-doo.”

“I’ve always been hot shit,” Keith says, and bursts into flames.

Lance shrieks and launches himself at Pidge. Hunk laughs good-naturedly as Pidge whacks Lance in retaliation. “Nice,” Hunk says. “I like cambion Keith a lot better than human Keith, sometimes.”

“Hunk, you’re tipsy, shush,” Pidge grumbles.

Keith extinguishes the flames and eyes him curiously. “Really? Why?”

“Dunno!” Hunk shrugs and claps him on the shoulder. “You’re just...different. More... _ you. _ And happier. Seems like it, anyway. You happier, cambion Keith?”

Keith considers it, and as he does, his chest warms, as if with a fire of its own. His gaze drifts to Shiro, across the hall, dancing with Krolia, both of them smiling and talking with every step. “I think so,” he murmurs. “Yes. Yes, I think I am.”

“Glad to hear it!” Hunk laughs, and drags Lance off to the punch bowl.

Three hours later, Hunk is running around in full bear form with Lance and Pidge cackling on his back, and Keith’s parents are dancing with each other so close he can’t bear to look in their general direction.

That’s alright, though, because Keith is dragging Shiro away from the party, body buzzing with alcohol and something else, something Shiro echoes when he kisses Keith up against a marble pillar, all tongue and teeth, fingers sinking into his braided hair with messy determination. Fangs catch on Keith’s lip and blood dribbles down his chin; he tips his head back against the marble with a breathy sound when Shiro licks the blood away, languid but intent.

“Takashi,” Keith sighs, dragging his claws along the line of Shiro’s jaw. “What did I do to deserve you?”

Shiro falters, raising his head and fixing Keith with a startled stare. He’s gotten better at keeping a human form, but they compromised for the wedding – they both kept their horns and a few scales, and though Shiro’s claws are sheathed, Keith doubts they will be for long. In any form, Shiro is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Over the years, his hair has turned silvery white in its entirety as a result of the magic which changed him, something Shiro was self-conscious of until Keith sank his fingers into the soft strands every chance he got and told him it looked like starlight, or maybe lightning. 

His face is painted with cooler tones, a dusting of silver and lavender on his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose, framing the scar there. He looks at Keith with a furrowed brow and shakes his head. 

“You know I’m the one who should be asking that question, after everything,” Shiro replies. His touch gentles and he steps away, as he has been doing far too often these days. Keith had hoped five years might mend the rift that Kurobasanir forced between them, but sometimes, like now, the guilt still shines painful and bright in Shiro’s face. 

“Hey,” Keith whispers, cupping his cheek. “None of that. You’re my husband now, don’t forget.”

Shiro sighs and turns his face into Keith’s palm, kissing it with soft lips, lingering at the cool gold ring on Keith’s finger. “I could never forget,” he whispers. “Husband.”

“Tonight is ours,” Keith adds, stroking his thumb over the paint on Shiro’s face, which flakes off slowly under his touch. 

“Yes. It is.” Shiro relaxes against him, searching Keith’s sly gaze with a growing, intrigued smile. “What do you have planned, baby?”

Keith smiles back, and crooks a claw under his chin, drawing on Shiro’s wrist gently. “Come, husband,” he says, and Shiro follows without question. 

*

The baths of Stratonikeia are in a vast, circular room, its ceiling vaulted in a towering rotunda lined with glass, revealing the starry sky up above their heads and casting the silver glow of moonlight over the warm, rippling water. The baths are empty now, and the two of them walk through the rising steam hand in hand, footsteps soundless on the wet stone. 

“Do you remember,” Keith murmurs, “when you appeared to me in your bath in the Citadel, the first time?”

Shiro pauses mid-step, and draws in a sharp breath. He squeezes Keith’s hand. “Yes,” he says, bowing his head. “Yes, I remember. I threatened to drown you.”

“No,” Keith says. “No, you threatened to kill the ones who would have drowned me in Blackwater.  _ I _ remember that.”

“I did cruel things to you,” Shiro retorts, unable to meet his gaze. “I humiliated you…”

“You made me feel good,” Keith corrects, stopping to wrap his arms around Shiro’s neck and guide his rueful eyes back up. “I didn’t tell you to stop. I didn’t want you to stop. And you always kept your promises. You always gave me pleasure. That isn’t cruelty, Shiro.”

Shiro closes his eyes. “But it was me, Keith. It was me as an incubus, but it was  _ me.” _

“And I’m glad it was you,” Keith says. “I’m glad it was you doing all of those things to me. I only want you doing all of those things to me, Shiro; that’s all I ever wanted. Do you understand?”

“I think so,” Shiro whispers, “but I still doubt I deserve your grace, Keith.”

“I know,” Keith sighs. “So, let me show you?”

Shiro kisses him in reply, a little desperate, and Keith sighs into the kiss and slides his hands over Shiro’s chest, smoothing across hard muscle and all the softer places which Keith adores so much. They fumble with each other’s cloaks and fine wedding clothes, and a thrill sparks up Keith’s spine when Shiro huffs and tears open the front of Keith’s tunic, scattering the buttons and laces every which way as his emerging claws make short work of it. 

“That was expensive,” Keith scolds, and hooks his claws in Shiro’s belt loops in retribution. Shiro stumbles forward, flush against him, with a breathy sound, shrugging off his tunic as Keith works his pants open, letting his claws scratch just so when he pushes the fabric down and away. His own pants follow, and they stand before each other bare in the warm steam and cool night air. 

Shiro does not shift, but he drinks in the sight of Keith’s nakedness, and a low sound spills from his throat into the thickening air between them. Keith levels him with a look, and goes to the nearest pool, lowering his body into the water and waiting. The paint washes off little by little, but the runes remain.

The pool is dark and moonless when Shiro slips into the water after him, his muscled chest painted in uneven shadows, the water lapping low at his hips. Keith stares at him, head tilted, watching every movement. In challenge, he shifts as fully as he can, letting Shiro see the white tips of his fangs and the cold gold of his eyes, and Shiro shudders visibly.

“You always tease me for liking you big and sharp,” Keith murmurs, beckoning him closer with eyes alone, “but you like it as much as I do, don’t you?”

Shiro nods slowly, and wades closer as if drawn by an invisible thread. “You’re beautiful,” Shiro whispers. 

“So are you,” Keith says, clawed fingers curling around Shiro’s wrist. “But  _ why  _ do you find me beautiful like this, Shiro?” His long, red spade-tipped tail flicks in the water behind him, and Shiro’s eyes trace its movement. 

“I like knowing you could hurt me,” Shiro admits, voice so low Keith hardly hears it. “Not that you couldn’t, as a human, but it’s...easier, like this. I like that you’re deadlier.”

Keith laughs just as low. “But you’re not powerless, ‘human’ or not. You’d still put up a good fight.” He smirks at the thought. “Go on. Try.”

Shiro shakes his head, but he’s smiling, too. “We’re not here to play fight,” he says.

“Who says it’s play?” Keith asks innocently, and lunges.

Shiro yelps and leaps backwards with a splash, Keith’s hands catching his chest, slamming him against the side of the bath effortlessly. Shiro gasps at the impact, his eyes wild, edged with the faint impression of fear, but he’s still smiling, and when Keith pins him, the fear gives way to anticipation and arousal, thrumming under his skin like a second heartbeat. Sparks fall from Keith’s palms to settle over Shiro harmlessly, dancing around them like so many fireflies.

“Caught you,” Keith croons, and nips at the shell of his ear. “Gonna try to get away?”

“No,” Shiro murmurs, his wild eyes softening to simple fondness, Keith’s sparks reflected in the depths of his pupils. “I’m right where I want to be.”

Keith’s breath hitches. “Me too,” he sighs, and kisses Shiro breathless.

In between kisses, he hefts Shiro up to rest in a nearby alcove, urging him to lean back, to let Keith crowd in between his thighs. He lets Shiro feel the tender sting of his teeth against all the softest parts of him; lips and throat and chest and wrists and groin — when Keith’s fanged teeth graze the thick base of Shiro’s cock, Shiro whimpers, legs twitching like he wants to get away, hips arching like he wants everything Keith will give him and more.

“Shh,” Keith whispers, claws skimming Shiro’s taut belly and jutting hipbones, scratching through coarse silver hair, then down to his thighs, digging in enough to leave raised pink lines, squeezing gently to urge his legs apart. “I’ve got you.”

“Keith,” Shiro gasps to the stars, and then with a trembling tone of awe when Keith presses his tongue over tight warm skin and licks until Shiro opens under his mouth, _ “Keith.” _

Keith moans low in his throat and licks harder, wetter, forcing his forked tongue inside as Shiro’s hands close around his shoulder and in his hair in a frantic grip. The water sloshes around them, and to Keith’s delight, Shiro shifts under his mouth, hole widening, softening, growing wet with slick arousal. 

Shiro whines when Keith licks the newly-engorged flesh happily, rubbing his nose into the folds of Shiro’s cunt and chuckling softly. “Naughty, naughty,” he croons. “You know, I think you rather  _ enjoy _ being an incubus, darling.”

“I’d enjoy it more if you fucked me, baby,” Shiro laughs breathlessly, head arching back and mouth falling open when Keith crooks two fingers inside him. “Come on, come on, want it to hurt a little –”

“On your wedding night?” Keith drags his tongue lazily through the slick dripping from Shiro’s cunt. “You’re starting to sound like me.”

“I’ll fuck you later,” Shiro growls, claws raking across the tile and gouging deep marks into them with a dull screech of sound. 

Keith blinks at the ruined tile with wide eyes, then grins, a little wild. “You’d better,” he hisses, and pulls his fingers out with a filthy sound before lining up his cock. 

_ “Yes,”  _ Shiro groans as Keith pushes in, holding up Shiro’s thighs with claws digging in just so, “ah, baby, please…”

“Look at you,” Keith pants, hips hitching against him in shallow, rolling thrusts,  _ “fuck, _ you feel so good —”

Shiro’s body clenches around him, cunt fluttering when Keith strokes Shiro’s cock and leans down to mouth and suck at his nipples, being sure to leave bruises. Shiro moans and clutches him closer, spreading his legs wider to Keith’s deepening thrusts, eyes rolling back in his head when Keith’s cock finds its mark. 

“Keith,  _ Keith,  _ baby,” Shiro is babbling, wrecking the tile with his claws, arching under Keith when Keith bites into the meat of his chest, leaving an angry red mark on his pectoral and sweetly licking the blood away while fucking him harder. 

“I love you,” Keith gasps, burying his face in the crook of Shiro’s neck, nuzzling at the rose and its gleaming opal, and Shiro’s cunt spasms in a burst of wet heat that drives Keith over the edge, thrusting through climax as Shiro shudders with needy sensitivity under him. Keith squeezes his cock and crooks his claw carefully into the slit, and Shiro cries out his name, writhing as cum splatters over Keith’s claws.

Keith smiles into his skin, working him through it until Shiro whimpers mercy, and retreats slowly, washing off the evidence in the warm water and snuggling up to Shiro.

“Mmm,” Shiro says after a few minutes, his arm squeezing Keith’s waist. “You’ve gotten good at that.”

Keith bites his shoulder playfully. “You saying I wasn’t before?”

“Well,” Shiro drawls, “you do have other talents.”

Keith rolls his eyes. “I’ll ride you until you pass out another day, sweetheart. We have all the time in the world for that, now that we’re married.”

Shiro’s face breaks into a helpless smile. “Married,” he repeats, and nuzzles into Keith’s hair. “Wow.”

“Such a sap,” Keith mumbles, but he’s blushing. “It’s not like this is a surprise. Five years, Shiro. And you knew about us long before I did, from your dreams.”

Shiro hums. “Yes, but actually experiencing it is...different, to say the least. And better. So much better.” He kisses Keith’s brow. “I love you, too. Of course. Always. Whatever happens next.”

“Where _ do _ we go from here?” Keith asks, brushing damp silver strands out of Shiro’s face. “We’ve traveled all the known realms, after all.”

“Not the unknown realms, though,” Shiro points out.

But Keith shakes his head. “We’ve traveled enough for now. I’m tired. Aren’t you?”

Shiro ruffles his hair, and twirls one of the hanging rubies on Keith’s horns around his pinky. “You saying you want to settle down, baby?”

“I’d like to,” Keith sighs. “With you.”

“Here?”

Keith lifts his head with a frown. “Stratonikeia isn’t our realm, Shiro. It’s my mother’s. And you have an entire palace waiting for you in Kerberos.”

“That’s not mine,” Shiro says, a line between his brows. “That’s Kurobasanir’s.”

“Kurobasanir is dead.” Keith’s frown deepens. “Besides, you were resigned to staying in that palace for eternity after our contract was done. Weren’t you?”

Shiro’s shoulders slump. “Where else was I to go?” His voice is very small.

Keith kisses his cheek, heart twinging painfully. “You’re not alone anymore, Takashi,” he promises. “Wherever you go, I go. That palace would be a miserable place to stay alone for eternity. But together? I think maybe...we could make it work.”

Shiro’s gaze lifts, hopeful. “You think so?”

“If you want,” Keith murmurs. “Yes.”

“I’d like that,” Shiro admits, biting his lip. “Maybe we could even make it a home, eventually.”

“That’s the spirit,” Keith says, and closes his eyes, letting the warm water wash over them. “Wherever we are, whenever you’re with me...it feels like home, Shiro.”

“Now who’s the sap?” Shiro says, but he’s blushing, too.

*

The carriage which brings them to the palace in Hell for their honeymoon is the very same carriage which brought them to Daibazaal five years ago. 

Keith runs his palm over the satin seat cushions and makes a soft sound, leaning against Shiro’s shoulder. “I didn’t want to leave, you know,” he murmurs. “I thought it would be the last time...and after so long wanting the Shiro I’d lost, sitting here in this carriage with you, imagining how it would be to lose you...I didn’t know what I wanted, anymore.”

Shiro’s arm tightens around his waist. “I know. There was a part of me…” He exhales, guilt creeping back into his gaze. “When you offered me your soul, when you told me to just take it, there was a part of me that wanted to. A part that couldn’t bear to let you go, and to let you keep on thinking that I was Kurobasanir.”

“Why did you let me keep on thinking that?” Keith asks softly. “Why didn’t you tell me Shiro was in there?”

Shiro closes his eyes. “I didn’t want you to hate me,” he admits. “It was easier, I suppose, for you to hate Kurobasanir. But I also didn’t want you to have to choose between me and the other me that I hoped you would find in the gladiatorial ring. I thought…” He swallows. “I thought there was no way he would be worse than I was. He hadn’t hurt you, used you, like I had. So I thought that was better.”

“Shiro?”

Shiro looks at him. “Hm?”

“I could never hate you,” Keith tells him, and it’s the truth. “Never. Sometimes you drive me crazy, and sometimes we disagree about every little thing, and sometimes you’re stubborn as a mule, but I could never hate you.”

Shiro sucks in a shallow breath. “Don’t say things like ‘never,’” he pleads. “We have eternity. We don’t know what could happen. There’s always the chance that...that Kurobasanir could come back, and take control, and then…”

“That won’t happen,” Keith says.

“How can you be so certain?” Shiro whispers, shaking his head. 

“Because,” Keith says. “Even when you were as Kurobasanir as you’ve ever been, you didn’t hurt me. You were always the one in control, Shiro, even when you didn’t know you were you. He’s long gone – it’s just you.” He taps Shiro’s head and smiles. “Trust me. I know these things.”

Slowly, Shiro smiles back, and leans back against the seat. “You  _ are  _ the smartest person I know,” he muses. “Maybe you’re onto something.”

“Of course I am,” Keith chuckles. “I’m also your husband, so, I’m right. You’ve just got to take that for granted, now.”

“Oh, do I?” Shiro snorts and gives him a sidelong glance. “I don’t think _ that  _ was in the vows.”

“Oh, yes,” Keith says, and shifts closer. “To bless you and to keep you, for as long as we both shall live, for better or for worse, Keith is always right – mmph!”

Shiro kisses him to shut him up, which is fair. “I don’t think so, baby,” Shiro murmurs when they part, Keith breathless and Shiro crouched over him, the hint of scales flickering across his cheekbones. “Good try, though.”

“Better luck next time?” Keith asks innocently.

“You’re already getting lucky,” Shiro says, and before Keith can groan at him for  _ that, _ Shiro pins him to the side of the carriage, and Keith’s breath leaves him in a rush.

This time, Shiro is gentle, claws digging into Keith’s shoulders like a tease more than a threat, and no harsh words pass his lips, only a low sigh as he leans in to nuzzle against Keith’s hair and ear and throat, smoothing a palm down Keith’s body as he does so. Keith arches into his touch, warm metallic fingers tracing over his ribs and the jut of his hipbones through thin black fabric. Shiro takes notice, and lingers where Keith shivers and sighs most, taking his time, simply exploring; as if he hasn’t already explored every inch of Keith, and then some. 

Keith watches with eyes half-lidded, and his breath shortens when Shiro’s form looms in the small carriage, dark wings unfolding from his shoulders, hair practically glowing against the growing shadows. He peers down at Keith with lantern eyes, and Keith warms at the attention, tipping his head back and arching his body forwards, into Shiro, an unsubtle invitation.

“Sit down,” Shiro murmurs, guiding Keith back to the cushioned seat, and a protest dies in Keith’s throat when Shiro, rather than joining him, sinks down to his knees at Keith’s feet, and noses into the seam of his pants with a thoughtful smirk. “You have no idea,” he breathes, exhaling hot and torturous over the growing bulge of Keith’s cock, “how difficult it was to stay still while you did this to me. How difficult it was not to take you into my arms and kiss you until you were begging for more. But I liked watching you try to make me squirm.” Keith’s nails dig into the cushion and Shiro smiles, teasing and licking until the fabric is wet and clinging. “I liked that very much.”

“Shiro,” Keith manages, “please…”

“Patience,” Shiro chuckles, and takes his sweet, sweet time.

It is a very long ride to the palace, but Keith loses all concept of time somewhere between Shiro sucking his cock and sitting astride him, all flexing muscle and low laughter and glowing golden eyes.

*

Keith awakes deliciously sore and satisfied in a familiar bed with Shiro, though to call it a bed would be a vast oversimplification. It is more of a formless expanse of soft black nothing, and Keith rolls onto his back, looking up at the shifting, sparkling ceiling of stars for a long, peaceful while, and remembering everything they’ve done together in this odd world of quiet limbo and dark space. 

The memories are as arousing as they are comforting – here, Keith has always felt safe; safe with Shiro, even when he didn’t know it was truly Shiro in the incubus’s skin; kissing him, holding him, having him.

Shiro stirs under his arm and kisses his armpit in sleepy greeting. 

“Mmm,” Shiro mumbles, and lifts his face from Keith’s armpit. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Keith says, and kisses the tip of his nose. “Please don’t kiss my armpit, honey.”

“But you have such attractive armpits,” Shiro tells him earnestly, and immediately bursts into laughter when Keith looks at him in horror. “Kidding,” Shiro wheezes, grinning from pointed ear to ear. “Though, honestly? You’re into so many stranger things than armpits.”

“But you married me, strange things and all,” Keith points out.

“And I’m so glad I did,” Shiro says easily, and throws an arm over Keith’s waist with a content sigh. “All I ever wanted was a husband with nice armpits and weird kinks –”

“Okay,” Keith declares, sitting up and shaking his head, “time to get up.”

“You sure you don’t want to explore any weird kinks before breakfast?” Shiro teases, batting his eyelashes.

“After,” Keith promises, and Shiro’s eyes darken. “Right now, I just really want a croissant.”

“I love croissants,” Shiro says dreamily, and Keith loves him very much.

*

Unfortunately, although he can make a mean stir fry, Shiro is not very good at croissants.

“We need a cook,” Keith says, arms folded, standing in front of a pile of crumb-covered plates and sadly sagging half-moon maybe-pastries. 

“Or just less croissants,” Shiro says. Keith fixes him with a glare. “Okay! Fine, let’s get a cook. But where?”

“Didn’t Kurobasanir have a cook?” Keith asks, folding his arms.

“I think he just ate people,” Shiro says, looking faintly sick. “So...probably not. And even if he did, I don’t think we want them.”

Keith sees the pained discomfort written all over Shiro’s face and immediately regrets asking him to sift through the incubus’s memories, or what remains of them. “Hey,” he says, and picks up a pathetic croissant, “I’ll find us a cook. Don’t worry. How hard could it be?”

*

Keith was not prepared to face a room full of horrifying abominations after sending out messages to the nearest Hell villages about their need for a cook, as well as various other servants. 

They need horse grooms for the carriage nightmares (who are technically self-sufficient because they feed off of fear and despair but who Shiro insists deserve to be cared for nonetheless). They sent out a call for gardeners for the whispering flowerbeds (which have some alarming fungal growths that Shiro swears have eyes), and also the haunted orchard (whose gnarled black trees bear fruit reminiscent of skulls), and of course the eldritch hedges (whose branches look and move like what Keith hesitates to call tentacles). 

Then they need maids to clean the palace, although honestly it seems eerily clean all on its own, so maybe the maids ought to clutter up the place, too. They need animal handlers for the snakes which have apparently been given free range over the area, which would be fine, except that Keith keeps tripping on them, and once they woke up to a python in their bed and Keith mistook it for something  _ very different, _ and immediately regretted it when the Possible Dick hissed and lunged at his face when he tried to lick it.

“I can’t believe you thought that was my dick,” Shiro exclaims afterwards. “The snake is  _ eight feet long!” _

“I can dream, can’t I?” Keith retorts, and avoids snakes, and dicks, for the next twenty-four hours.

The motley assortment of demons which responds to their seemingly endless staff requirements is shocking, to say the least. 

“You could always call one of your mother’s minions to do this for us,” Shiro whispers, eyeing a manticore that is straightening a tiny chef’s apron and exhaling flames. 

“It  _ is _ our honeymoon,” Keith mutters. “But...it’s also our house. Our household.”

“We can rest when we’re dead, right?” Shiro quips, and giggles with a manic edge, because if all goes well, neither of them will die. Ever. 

Keith can’t think about that part too much.

“I like the dragon-y maid over there,” Keith declares. 

Shiro narrows his eyes. “Nope,” he says. “No dragons except me allowed.”

Keith rolls his eyes, fighting a smile. “Oh, fine. How about the goblin maids?”

“I like the banshee.”

The banshee stands off to the side, wearing a neat black pantsuit and impeccable black lipstick. She looks like she knows what she’s doing.

“Banshee maid sounds good to me.”

“SCREEEEEEE,” says the banshee maid, and smiles with countless rows of needle teeth. She’s holding a piece of parchment that looks like a resumé. Shiro takes it and peers at it, and Keith can’t read a single word, but it looks very impressive.

“Can you speak without screaming?” Shiro asks her with genuine concern.

_ “scree,”  _ she whispers affirmatively, and gives him a thumbs up. 

“That’ll work,” Shiro says. “You’re hired.”

_ “ScreeEE,” _ she hisses, and fistpumps in victory. The other Voidborn grumble and shift restlessly amongst themselves, all vying for approval, shuffling forward with their own pieces of parchment.

“One down,” Keith sighs, “a hundred to go…”

*

It takes three days, but eventually, they have a fully staffed household, and a very tired incubus and cambion in charge of it all.

It’s worth it for the croissants, in Keith’s opinion. 

“Mmmffnn,” Keith moans as he munches happily on yet another wonderfully buttery and warm pastry. “Thank you, Krios.”

KRIOS IS PLEASED LORD RED IS SATISFIED WITH BREAKFAST, the Minotaur says proudly, puffing out his broad chest. DOES LORD BLACK ENJOY HIS MEAL ALSO?

(They’ve told Krios the Minotaur Cook their names on multiple occasions. He has apparently elected to ignore this and identifies them by the colors of their tails and noble titles they don’t technically have, for some reason.)

Shiro eyes the preening white bull and chews his mouthful of croissant slowly. “Yes, thank you, Krios. Very good.”

I WAS THINKING VENISON STEW FOR LUNCH, Krios offers. WITH THE BROWN BREAD LORD RED LIKES SO MUCH —

_ “Yesss,”  _ Keith hisses, nodding enthusiastically.

“Venison stew,” Shiro grits out, “sounds great. Dismissed, Krios.”

YES SIR. Krios bows and lumbers out.

“Best cook ever,” Keith declares, and tears off a piece of croissant, lifting it to Shiro’s mouth. He isn’t prepared for Shiro to wrap his lips around Keith’s offered fingers, licking them clean of butter and pastry flakes. “Uhh?” Keith says, mouth falling open as his wet fingers fall limply to the sofa cushions.  _ “Someone’s _ in a mood.”

But Shiro clears his throat, ducking his head and wiping the butter off his mouth hastily, though not hastily enough for Keith to miss the scales forming on the back of his clawed and bigger-than-usual hand. “Nevermind,” Shiro says, voice coming out raspy and low, and Keith’s eyes widen further. He leans forward in concern and undeniable curiosity. Shiro coughs, cheeks burning, and scrambles off the sofa. “I’ve gotta – talk to Miss Elsie the banshee maid. About the – the curtains. Yes. Right. That. See you later?” And he practically bolts out of the room.

Keith blinks in confusion, shakes his head, and takes another croissant from the basket. 

*

Three days later, Kerberos receives a period of such foggy weather that everyone is forced inside, on account of a) not being able to see an inch in front of their noses, and b) the entire valley is crawling with hungry mistwraiths. 

Keith doesn’t mind, because it means he and Shiro spend their day in bed, lazily enjoying each other in the warm half-light of their actual bedroom, illuminated by the roaring fire Keith keeps alive in the crackling hearth. It is a fine room, one they’re decorating together, little by little. The canopy bed faces the curving bay windows, and the window seat is strewn with pillows and blankets and books. The books are quite good, but are currently forgotten, considering that Keith is in Shiro’s lap and both of them are naked and aching.

Keith’s gotten used to their easy, sensual domesticity. Shiro woke him up with a messy blowjob, and Keith fingered him until he came, tears on his cheeks, cock untouched. Once they’ve started, it’s hard to stop, and now hours later they’re still all over each other. Keith has shifted, and yet Shiro remains in mostly human form, a form he struggles to maintain with every passing minute.

“C’mon,” Keith coaxes, grinding shallowly in his lap, eyes half lidded and taunting. “Don’t you remember, Shiro?” His claws dig into the incubus’s flexing shoulders, and he licks a playful line over Shiro’s jaw with his forked tongue, admiring the way his wet skin glistens in the firelight. 

“Remember what, baby,” Shiro whispers, hardly breathing. He sits up against the wall stiff and still, hands curling in the blankets as Keith straddles him more fully, rubbing his ass over the obvious line of Shiro’s cock through his fine robes, thrown on as an afterthought after their morning bath together (which left both of them filthier than before). 

They both like it like this, letting Keith play his games while Shiro waits curiously on his whims. He lets Keith have control more often than not, and only takes control himself when it is given to him. He’s considerate like that.

But sometimes, Keith wishes he would just take it. Like he used to. Like Kurobasanir did. He won’t push it, but he wants to give Shiro the option. Just in case.

Keith smiles in the crook of his neck. “What you’d planned to do with me,” he murmurs, and hears Shiro’s sharp intake of breath. “All those times you showed me images of me at your mercy, your servant here, in your palace, living in the lap of luxury…” He snickers quietly at the pun. “Keeping your cock warm for eternity.”

Shiro’s cock twitches and Keith doesn’t relent. He loves Shiro, and he loves the gentler side of the incubus that has been so present since that fateful day in the dungeons of Daibazaal, but Keith won’t deny he misses the not-so-nice side, too. He likes being lavished with pleasure, treated like something precious and beautiful...but he also likes being used.

Shiro goes very still under him. He tries to stay out of Keith’s head, but sometimes, Keith projects. Loudly.

“Used,” Shiro repeats, and his eyes gleam. “Really? That’s what you want on your honeymoon? Naughty.”

“Here’s what I want,” Keith says, squeezing his chest lightly, “I want you to keep me on your cock for as long as you can.” He pauses, and corrects, “Cock, tail, or fingers. But mostly cock.”

Shiro’s growl is as helpless as it is dangerous. “Presumptuous,” he murmurs, reaching up to drag a claw over Keith’s parted lips. “I have other things to do than  _ you, _ baby.”

“I highly doubt that,” Keith retorts, even though they definitely do need to repaint the parlor tomorrow. “Besides, remember your vows. You have a duty to me, now.”

“I always did,” Shiro says, and flips them with such speed that Keith is breathless, eyes widening as Shiro grasps the base of his tail and  _ yanks,  _ wrenching a strangled noise from Keith’s throat.

Shiro laughs, low and deadly, and presses him down into the window seat. “I thought you wanted to settle down, as in, build a household, make a home here,” he murmurs. “Not settle down  _ on my cock.” _

Keith snorts, tail still smarting, Shiro’s claws squeezing at his ass in a definite promise. “Well, when you put it like that…”

MY LORDS, Krios says from the doorway.

Keith yelps and almost falls off the window seat. Shiro, on the other hand, jolts upright with a snarl, dragon wings appearing out of nowhere to shield Keith’s body from view of the oblivious Minotaur. 

I HAVE BROUGHT BROWN BREAD, Krios says. 

“Now is  _ really _ not the time,” Shiro growls, and the hairs on the back of Keith’s neck prickle at the sound. He can’t remember the last time he’s seen Shiro so furious, jaw clenched, serrated teeth bared, tendons standing out in his neck, and a vein throbbing visibly on his forehead. Keith gulps under him, peeking out at Krios around the huge wings.

APOLOGIES, MY LORDS, Krios says, and places the basket on the coffee table. ENJOY YOURSELVES. And he  _ winks. _

It’s probably for the best that the Minotaur leaves as fast as he does, because Keith is preparing himself to witness a brutal slaughter.

As soon as the door closes, Shiro looks back down at Keith, who is shocked into silence.

Shiro looks more like an incubus than he has in months, and not a happy one, at that. Keith shrinks back from his wrathful expression instinctively, and instantly regrets it when Shiro’s eyes widen and he all but tears himself away from Keith. “Shiro?” Keith whispers, reaching out, fingers curling uncertainly. 

“I can’t,” is all Shiro says, tugging his robe tight around him, the back of it ripped where his wings sliced through. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He leaves Keith alone on the window seat, cold and uncertain, white mist curling in through the open window like ghosts.

*

Keith finds Shiro later that day in the gardens, sitting under one of the crooked trees, barely visible through the still-swirling mist. Pale golden leaves crunch under Keith’s boots as he approaches cautiously. Shiro’s knees are curled up to his chest, and his impressive horns and slowly flicking black tail are impossible to miss. His clawed hands and the jagged features of his face are subtler from afar, but the closer Keith gets, the more apparent they are.

_ Keith, _ Shiro says, and his voice does not quite sound like his own. It is hollow and ancient and not at all human, yet the sadness echoing through the single word is a sadness Keith knows like the back of his hand. 

Keith falters. “Are you okay?” The trees rustle above them, and he sits down beside Shiro, leaving a small space between them. 

_ Everything is blurry here,  _ Shiro admits, eyes downcast.  _ I think you’re right. I think he is dead. But I was him for so long, Keith. And here, being him feels more...natural. _ He grimaces.  _ It isn’t. I know that.  _

“It’s you,” Keith says carefully. “Shiro, all of this is you. Not him.”

_ I’m not sure it is.  _ Shiro sighs.  _ When we were traveling, even when I took his form, I felt like me. But here, now, in his old home, with you as my husband…  _

Shiro trails off into silence. His expression is not guilt, but something worse, something twisted and horrified and  _ sorry.  _

“What’s changed?” Keith prompts, mouth dry. Shiro won’t look at him. His eyes glow like dying suns.

_ I know you’re not mine, _ Shiro whispers, finally.  _ I know our contract is long over and done with. But the part of me that used to be him, doesn’t.  _

“What do you mean?”

_ Whenever someone else looks at you, there’s a part of me that wants to kill them, _ Shiro says like an apology. 

Keith inhales sharply. “Krios?”

_ It’s foolish, _ Shiro says.  _ I know that. But I... _

“Shiro,” Keith says carefully, “I am your husband. I  _ am _ yours, as you are mine. And we were bound to each other long before that. You are the only one who has ever had, and ever will have, my heart. Among other things.”

Shiro’s eyes widen.  _ I don’t doubt your loyalty – _

“Nor I yours,” Keith assures, and covers Shiro’s hand with his own, scales rough under his palm. “All I’m saying is that, if you are bothered by any of the staff’s attention towards me, I wouldn’t mind if you did something about it.”

_ Did something,  _ Shiro repeats, distant and dark.

“It’s our honeymoon,” Keith adds. “An unconventional honeymoon, to be sure, but in all honesty we’ve been honeymooning for five years.”

_ I would not humiliate you, _ Shiro starts, tentatively lifting his gaze.  _ That is not my intention, never. _

“Unless I wish it?” Keith murmurs, curling into the curve of his side.

But Shiro shakes his head, looking sorry again. _ I don’t want to risk – losing control,  _ he whispers.  _ Even if you would wish it, I... _

“I understand,” Keith says, and leans his head upon Shiro’s shoulder. A leathery wing wraps tight around him, and Keith strokes the shivering gray skin lightly. “I would not wish anything of you that you did not also want, Takashi. Never more than you can give.”

_ I’m sorry,  _ Shiro says.  _ Someday. _

Keith brings Shiro’s hand to his lips and kisses each knuckle, slow and chaste. “No rush,” he says. “Simply being with you is more than enough.” He kisses Shiro’s ring, and Shiro relaxes, and leans into him with a relieved sigh, the golden leaves falling through the misty air like slow rain around them.

*

Evidently, Shiro was not being paranoid, because evidently, not all Voidborn are aware of the concept of fidelity in marriage. Keith discovers this the hard way when he finds himself in the unfortunate position of being between a wall and a very earnest Minotaur with a basket of croissants. 

FOR YOU, LORD RED, Krios says. THEY WILL MAKE YOU PLUMP AND PRETTY.

_ “Um,” _ Keith says, glancing up and down the empty hall with mild desperation. “Krios, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m  _ married.” _

Krios snorts. TO AN INCUBUS. 

Keith folds his arms. “What is  _ that  _ supposed to mean?”

INCUBUS FUCK LOTS OF THINGS, Krios explains. IT IS ONLY FAIR FOR LORD RED TO ALSO HAVE OPTIONS.

Keith’s eyes narrow, and the white bull takes a step back when his fingertips start to spark. “I think you are mistaken,” Keith grits out, “as to the nature of our relationship. Shiro is  _ my husband. _ Neither of us fuck  _ anything  _ but  _ each other.” _

Krios still looks confused. VERY NICE CONCEPT, he says, BUT INCUBUS NOT SATISFIED WITH ONE PARTNER, MUST HAVE MANY, THAT IS HOW THEY ARE…

Keith glares at him fiercely. “Are you saying I’m not  _ enough _ for him?!”

Krios huffs, and Keith hates the pity in his glowing red eyes. YES, Krios admits. MAYBE NOW, YOU ARE, BUT EVENTUALLY HE WILL NEED MORE THAN YOU CAN GIVE.

“How dare you,” Keith says, though there’s a lump in his throat, and he’s feared as much before, but it’s been five years, and Shiro has never complained...though, Keith knows Shiro would say nothing even if he was suffering in that respect. 

The realization hurts. 

In the orchard, Shiro told Keith he was afraid to lose control. Was he afraid because losing control would mean losing control of the incubus’s lust? Keith remembers Kurobasanir telling him how many others he’d slept with, how many he needed to stave off his appetites. But Kurobasanir is gone. Surely Shiro will not need to turn to others for sustenance…but what if he does? Keith can hardly deny him something he needs to survive.

YOU CARE ABOUT HIM, Krios says, tone a bit gentler. I DID NOT MEAN TO UPSET YOU, LORD RED. BUT I KNOW THEIR NATURE. AND I KNOW YOU ARE HALF-HUMAN. NOT ENOUGH FOR A GREATER INCUBUS. HIS APPETITES COULD KILL YOU.

Keith’s gut twists. “Get away from me,” he whispers, voice breaking. Krios looks stricken. 

A shadowy figure steps into the hallway, spread wings framing him in darkness. Golden eyes glare as Shiro storms towards them, and the white bull backs away, glancing between Keith and the advancing incubus. LORD BLACK, Krios starts, suddenly realizing the gravity of the situation, I WILL GO NOW.

_ Yes,  _ Shiro snarls, both arms crackling with violet lightning,  _ you will, and you will never so much as breathe on Keith again, or I will rend your head from your body. _

The white bull gawks, hooves loud on the marble as he scrambles away, red eyes fading to a terrified brown. YES, MY LORD, UNDERSTOOD, VERY VERY SORRY WON’T HAPPEN AGAIN, and he clip-clops quickly out of sight. 

Shiro is on Keith in half a second, and Keith slumps into him, trembling, his thoughts once again so loud that Shiro cannot possibly ignore them. The incubus growls in agitation, claws clamping down on Keith’s shoulders. “He said,” Keith whispers, and stops. “Am I not enough, Shiro?”

Shiro hesitates, teeth too-bright in the dark hall as his lips part.

Keith’s stomach drops. “Why didn’t you – why didn’t you say something?”

_ He was wrong,  _ Shiro says firmly.  _ I have never wanted anyone more than I want you.  _

“But you’re still holding back,” Keith says quietly. “You’re still afraid of letting go, of letting me see anything more than your human side. I know you can’t keep that up forever. I know it takes a toll on you. I know you don’t sleep as much as you should and sometimes it’s like you can’t bear to touch me and I can see how guilty you are when you’re inside of me and –”

_ That is not your fault,  _ Shiro says, brow creased.  _ That is my own struggle, and you need not concern yourself with – _

“Yes,” Keith snaps, “yes, I must concern myself with it. Shiro, we are in this  _ together.” _ He swallows hard, tears pricking at his eyes. “If you have – other needs, beyond me, I need to know about that. I won’t – I won’t be angry, because I want you to be okay, and if that means fucking other people who don’t make you feel so guilty then, then I won’t stop you, I love you, and –”

Shiro’s firm hug smothers any other rambling words in the incubus’s chest. Keith makes a muffled sound of surprise as Shiro wraps Keith up tight in his arms, burying his face in Keith’s hair. A tremor goes through them both. 

_ You are enough, Keith, _ Shiro whispers.  _ Always and forever, you are all I need. Nothing will change that.  _

Keith clings to him. “Then you have to take what you need from me,” he whispers against Shiro’s skin. “No guilt. No regret. Take what you need knowing that I love you, and I want you.”

_ I do not wish to hurt you, Keith, _ Shiro pleads.  _ Not again. _

“Then trust me to tell you if it hurts, as I trust you not to hurt me.” Keith looks up at him, framing Shiro’s face in his hands, the face he has almost forgotten; undeniably inhuman, nearly monstrous, if not for the profound sorrow and soft fondness in it. It was once Kurobasanir’s face, but Shiro has made it his own, and Keith loves it as much as he loves Shiro in any form. 

_ Tell me,  _ Shiro begs, the promise of power rippling through him.

“I trust you,” Keith breathes, tipping his head up, shivering in the best way as sharp claws trail over his bared throat, “I want you. I love you. Shiro, my husband, I’m yours. I’m yours.”

_ Mine, _ Shiro whispers, low and overwhelmed, and kisses Keith in a punishing embrace, lifting him up against the wall with little effort, sloppy tongue invading Keith’s gladly open mouth. A growl rumbles through him, and Keith slumps into the flexing heat of his chest, sighing as claws close around his thighs, locking them around Shiro’s hips. 

“That’s it,” Keith coaxes, a line of unbroken saliva connecting their lips where they part like spider silk, “let go, Shiro. It’s okay. It’s you, I know it is. Only you.”

_ Only you,  _ Shiro echoes, and rips Keith’s breeches off in ragged strips, leaving stinging lines of heat across the skin underneath. Keith groans in encouragement, and Shiro shudders, a new light in his burning eyes.  _ Let me show you, _ Shiro coos, tongue hot and wet and welcome over Keith’s chest as he yanks his tunic off and away.  _ Let me show you how no one could ever compare to you, Keith. Let me show you how much you deserve, baby. _

Keith gasps and hugs him tight as the hall melts away, replaced by a much larger room, all vaulted ceilings and intricate stonework and stained glass and –

Keith chokes on helpless laughter. “Is this a  _ church?”  _

Shiro chuckles and bites his collarbone, and Keith moans his words away, arching back into a...chair. Not just any chair, though.

_ Throne room, _ Shiro purrs.  _ Still like that pet fantasy, baby? _

And the image Shiro showed him once before, back in the Citadel when Shiro was Kurobasanir and Keith was bound to him in a different way, enters Keith’s mind again – an image of Shiro atop this very same throne, black and thorny, with Keith in his lap, riding his cock in shallow, greedy rolls of his hips, cock bobbing back up into hardness despite the layers of cum dripping from it, and the thicker cum dripping out from where Shiro’s cock breaches him, again and again, never softening, never allowing him respite; not because Keith is meant to be used, but because he  _ wants _ to be, as long as it’s by Shiro. 

Except this time, it’s real, and this time, Keith is not afraid. And this time, Shiro is Shiro, and they are married, and they are bound not by desperate obligation but by blood and devotion, and Shiro kisses Keith’s ear and cheek and neck and lips and touches him with worshipful hands tipped in claws like so many knives and sighs like a prayer,  _ I love you, I love you, I love you, _ until Keith can hear nothing but love.

**Author's Note:**

> god i love them what did i tell you they LOVE EACH OTHER SO MUCH GOSH.....
> 
> (also fear not, krios stays in his lane bc he is respectful of their boundaries slash terrified of them both, and gets with miss elsie the bamf banshee so all is well. he woos her with increasingly elaborate pies and it goes much better for him this time)


End file.
